


The Empire's Many-Jeweled Crown

by Snickfic



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Tentacle Sex, mentions of cannibalism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 22:44:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18860470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickfic/pseuds/Snickfic
Summary: "You want to," Vers says, so fucking cocky—but also correct, because she gropes through Minn-Erva's skirts and finds a tentacle, already writhing. "And you want it fromme, because—""All right," Minn-Erva says. This is what she gets. She gave Yon-Rogg this one concession, she let him partner her with the overpowered amnesiac upstart from C-53, and now she can pollinate with no one else. Damn him, and damn Vers, too.





	The Empire's Many-Jeweled Crown

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "cannibal superheroes impregnating each other with their tentacles on 1930s Space London," which should tell you everything you need to know about whether or not you want to read this fic. 😅

There's still blood on Vers's teeth when Minn-Erva kisses her. Of course there is; Vers puts on airs now, pretends she's too good the Empire, but she's got the Empire's blood in her veins and the Empire's needs in her belly. She wouldn't last long without fresh meat, any more than Minn-Erva would. "Who was it?" Minn-Erva asks. She licks across Vers's upper lip, in case Vers has any doubt what she's talking about.

Vers lifts her chin, just missing Minn-Erva's nose. "One of yours."

 _Ours_ , Minn-Erva should say, but Vers was never one of them, and Minn-Erva always knew it, no matter how much Yon-Rogg postured about Ver's _purpose_. Instead, Minn-Erva brushes the be-ribboned cap off Vers's head. "Oops," she said.

Vers rolls her eyes. "Let's just get it over with."

"Maybe I don't want to," Minn-Erva says.

"You want to," Vers says, so fucking cocky—but also correct, because she gropes through Minn-Erva's skirts and finds a tentacle, already writhing. "And you want it from _me_ , because—"

"All right," Minn-Erva says. This is what she gets. She gave Yon-Rogg this one concession, she let him partner her with the overpowered amnesiac upstart from C-53, and now she can pollinate with no one else. Damn him, and damn Vers, too. She gives in and lets the tentacle drop from her skirt. It immediately grips Vers's ankle and begins to climb.

Vers hisses. She grabs Minn-Erva by the shoulders and twists, and now it's Minn-Erva with her back to the coal-streaked wall outside the station. What an excellent locale for pollination, thank you so much, certainly no one will notice.

Then Minn-Erva's tentacle finds one of Vers's, and suddenly, this wall seems like a great fucking idea. Just the touch, the slick slide of one boneless member against another, has Minn-Erva shaking. Vers is gasping against her shoulder. Minn-Erva pushes further up, finds another tendril just dropping from Vers. The tendril grasps at Minn-Erva's tentacle, not yet long enough to encircle her full girth. "Not enough," Minn-Erva mutters. "Where's the rest, come on—"

"Where's _yours_?" Vers says, and oh, now her first tentacle is winding up Minn-Erva's calf. No one else's tentacle has ever done this, climbed her like a trellis, brushed against that tender thigh-skin. 

Then— "By the Accusers," Minn-Erva groans, as Vers finds her clit. The tentacle's tip brushes against Minn-Erva so sweetly, almost chastely. It's the filthiest thing Minn-Erva has ever felt in her life. She clings to Vers with all her strength, just as hard as Vers is clinging to her: the pollination embrace, the Kree call it, but Minn-Erva never guessed it would feel anything like this. She prods ever higher, towards Vers's wet center—there.

"Fuck," Vers gasps against her shoulder, the word as deliciously filthy as Minn-Erva feels. More tentacles spill from Vers now. Dimly Minn-Erva is aware that they're dropping from between her own legs, too. There are too many to keep track of. They push aside both women's skirts, hungry for contact, for the wet delicious tingle of another being's slick. They writhe around each other, and Minn-Erva has no fucking idea which ones are hers anymore. She moans each breath against Vers's neck. When a couple of Vers's smaller tendrils push inside her, she's already so overcome with sensation that she barely notices. 

"Vers," Minn-Erva says. She thinks she might have been saying it for a while. " _Vers._ " The orgasm begins in her cunt and ripples out along all her many, many limbs, including the ones wedged inside Vers now—how many? Three? Four?

Vers groans in her ear. A moment later, Minn-Erva knows exactly what it's like to have someone pollinating her cunt.

They hold onto each other for a little while longer. Slowly Minn-Erva pries her fingers away from the folds of Vers's dress and—oh, from the skin of her arm, where Minn-Erva has torn it. More blood, she thinks vaguely. She is not fully herself yet. Dimly she is aware of her tentacles retreating, pulling back up within her, one by one.

At last Vers pushes away from her. Her gaze is unreadable. "So that's it, then," she says.

"One for each of us," Minn-Erva says, letting her hand fall to her stomach. She means to mock Vers some more, but her thoughts stick on what they've just done. Of course she _knew_ , she's known for nearly a year how this encounter would end. It's different, somehow, having just felt Vers slither free of her cunt, leaving a child behind. A potential child. _Vers_ 's child, who isn't even Kree.

"One for each of us," Vers echoes. She takes a step forward, as if she's going to—

She shakes her head. Without another word, without even a quip—Vers was always so fond of quips—she takes another step back, tips her head up, and streaks into Hala's evening sky.

"For the good of all Kree," Minn-Erva calls, though she knows Vers couldn't possibly hear her. She looks down at her hand, still clasped against her stomach. She thinks of Vers, swelling round and full with a blue child that must eat its own to live.

Minn-Erva doesn't know what she feels. She doesn't know when she will. She smooths out her torn skirts, and she heads for the station. There will be another train home in a half-hour or so.

[end]


End file.
